Literally Billy Batson
by DreamersMyth27
Summary: Billy Batson is completely normal. He's also alone. Has been for years. And he's okay with that, really. He's used to it, even. Being alone is just how his life has ended up working out. And yeah, he misses his parents more often than not. Misses having people who love him and ask him how his school went when he gets home from it. But he deals. He's also the son of Batman, details
1. Lima, Peru

**So, it's a little (okay, a lot) later than promised, but it's finally here. The updated and improved Literally Billy Batson. I'm very proud of it so far. I think my writing has improved quite a bit since I first wrote this, and what better way to showcase it than rewrite my first ever fanfiction? Hopefully you all enjoy it.**

**Side question, should I change the title? I'm considering something different, but I'm also very attached to the original title.**

* * *

** Lima, Peru**

**February 11th, 2000**

Peru is one of the nicest places Bruce has been in recent years, he'll admit. He's still training, but it was better than Nanda Parbat, which is always either a biting cold or an evil heat. His trainers here are more forgiving than Ra's al Ghul too. Kinder. Softer, though not weaker.

The reprieve from Ra's League of Assassin's is welcome as well. Here, Bruce isn't required to stay hidden in the mountains with them and just live with the fact their job, all of their jobs, are to kill. Here he can wander in his spare time, enjoy the people and the city. Practice his language skills. Simply be.

The main market is exceedingly busy today, Bruce notes absently. It's a Sunday afternoon, so he supposes it can be explained away, but still. Even for a Sunday, it's busy. The streets are crowded and Bruce finds himself having to push through people to get anywhere. No one else seems very surprised by the crowd and all are holding their things tightly. Bruce counts on that as he bumps people out of his way.

Until someone he bumps into drops something large. He turns around at the sound of a large thud on the cobblestone streets. A woman is standing there, face surprised and frustrated. She turns to glare at Bruce.

"_I hope you realize what you made me drop,_" she says, scowling and leaning down to open the top of the box. Bruce spies a small vase inside before she slams the top of the box down.

"_I'm sorry,_" Bruce replies, also in Spanish. "_Do you need any help carrying it?_"

He offers because it's polite. Because he does feel guilty for making her drop something obviously important to her. There are a lot of reasons, and another one, Bruce realizes absently, is also that she's very beautiful. And serious as Bruce may be, he is only twenty-one. Also, she seems nice. Intelligent. That's arguably more important to him that beauty. He can't help but slightly lose his common sense.

"_From you?_" She snorts. "_I'd be lucky if you don't just drop it again and break it. I'm good._"

She leans over and grabs the box, slowly lifting up and adjusting her grip. As soon as it's secure she begins walking quickly. Bruce follows her.

"_Is your vase alright?_" he asks. He doesn't know why he's bothering, but something about her intrigues him. "_I didn't break it?_"

"_It'll be even better if you leave,_" she says without looking at him, keeping her walking pace brisk.

Bruce runs a hand through his hair and speeds up a little. She's still ahead of him slightly.

"_Is there anything I can do to make up for almost destroying it?_" he asks, a touch desperate. "_Maybe lunch?_"

Smooth, Bruce. Real smooth.

The woman stops and turns around suddenly. This time she doesn't look angry. She looks confused. Bruce smiles hopefully at her.

"_Okay?_" she says, though it sounds more like a question to Bruce.

Bruce smiles crookedly at her. For the first time in a long time, his smile is genuine.

"_No more touching my box though. If I break it the museum will never hire me again._"

Bruce files away the information about a museum for later

"_I think I can agree to that._"

"_Good,_" she says. "_I wouldn't go out with you if you didn't._"

Bruce laughs. Actually laughs. He really can't remember the last time he laughed like that.

"_You can follow me back to the museum. After I drop this off we'll go out?_"

"_Yes,_" Bruce agrees. "_By the way, I'm Bruce. Bruce Wayne._"

She shifts the box in her arms again and holds a hand out. Bruce takes it.

"_Nice to meet you, Bruce. I'm Marilyn Ordway._"

* * *

**Lima, Peru**

**February 13th, 2000**

They go out to lunch together and have a great time. For the first time in a very long time, Bruce actually finds himself listening to what she has to say with his full attention. Marilyn is witty and smart. So very smart Bruce has trouble keeping up with her.

He finds out she's been hired to lead an archaeological dig. She was offered the job last year but had turned it down at first.

"_Why?_" Bruce finds himself asking.

"_I was… engaged,_" she says wistfully. "_We didn't want to spend time apart with the wedding in only a year._"

"_You came anyway,_" he observes.

"_I'm pretty sure things are over between us,_" she confides. "_We had a fight, I don't even remember what it was about, really. But it's over between us. For good. I don't think either of us will come back. We both said some very hurtful things._"

C.C. Batson, Bruce decides, is a fool to let someone as amazing as Marilyn go over a little fight.

"_I'm sorry,_" Bruce says honestly. "_I suppose you're not ready-_"

"_Please,_" Marilyn scoffs. "_I'm not stuck on him. What's over is over._"

Bruce, selfishly, finds himself very glad C.C. was dumb enough to let Marilyn slip away from him.

* * *

** Lima, Peru**

**April 2nd, 2000**

They meet at the edge of the city. Marilyn is in a white sundress and her floppy hat is in her arms. Bruce is wearing a loose white shirt and khakis. The wind is whipping at both of them. It makes Marilyn's hair fly behind her. Bruce imagines she's a goddess, right now.

"_I'm leaving,_" she says, coming to a stop next to him. They're both looking out at the ocean.

"_I know,_" Bruce tells her. He can't stop himself from asking: "_Wait for me?_"

"_No._"

"_I knew you'd say that._"

"_We both did, Bruce._"

She's right. They have both known this would end like this. The stolen kisses and the warm nights together had no ending other than heartbreak. Bruce accepts that. He should have known better than to ask for a happier ending.

They've told each other everything. Bruce has told her about his parents. About his desire for revenge. About growing up lonely in Gotham. About Alfred. He's told her about how he wants to make a difference in Gotham. He's even told her about his quest to learn everything he can from the best teachers in the world.

She's never been scared by his intensity before.

She's only loved him. He, in return, knows everything about her and has loved her back with an intensity that scares even him.

He knows about her perfect life with C.C. Batson. He knows how scared she is of starting a family and being like her own mother, cold and cruel. They comfort each other.

And now it's all over. These blissful two months are done with. Bruce doesn't think he'll ever have two months where he's this happy again.

It's the end of the moonlit walks and candlelit dinners. The end of picnics in fields of flowers and days spent on the beach simply being. No more walking through the various markets and trying every type of food they can.

"_It could be different,_" Bruce offers.

"_No, it couldn't. Not really._" Marilyn finally turns to him. Bruce turns and meets her eyes which are glistening with unshed tears. "_We both know that even if you give all this up, training to save Gotham, you'll never be at peace again. Gotham needs you, Bruce. I would take you away from Gotham._"

"_Screw Gotham,_" he whispers tremulously. "_Screw it all. I _love _you, Marilyn._"

"_I love you too, Bruce. That's why we can't be together. We're not meant for each other. You need someone who won't take you away from Gotham. I need someone I don't have to worry about ruining what could be their life._"

"_You wouldn't ruin my life. I would be happy with you. I would never look back on what could be._"

Marilyn laughs, light and airy, turning to look at the ocean again. "_Don't make promises you can't keep, Bruce. You would always wonder 'what if'._" She pauses and takes a deep breath. "_I called C.C. and said we could work things out. It's for the best._"

Bruce is quiet for a moment.

"_I suppose this is goodbye then._"

"_It is._"

"_One more night and we'll never see each other again._" Bruce turns to her. "_One last walk?_"

Marilyn smiles sadly.

"_One last walk,_" she agrees, taking his offered arm. "_And one last kiss at my door._"

Bruce wakes up the next morning alone in Marilyn's bed. There's a lengthy note on the bedside table. All her things are gone.

Bruce dresses and puts the note in his pocket. He doesn't open it. He can't open it. Not this soon.

* * *

**Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**April 4th, 2000**

Marilyn is sad, leaving Bruce behind. She's heartbroken about it. She loves him and he loves her. It should be simple. She knows this. He wouldn't have offered to give everything up just for her if he didn't love her. She knows though. She knows he'd be unhappy, or at least not content with just her. She also knows she couldn't stand watching him go out every night by herself without know whether he'll make it home safely or if she'll wake up in the morning and he'll be dead.

She could have promised to wait, she knows. But even if he does manage to escape what he so deeply wants right now, even if he does stop needing to save everyone so badly, she can't promise she'll still be waiting for him. She loves him, but she still loves C.C. Batson.

The love she has for Bruce is hot and passionate. It burns brightly and flickers out quickly. It always comes back. The love she has for C.C. is different. It is always there, warm and inviting. Steady. Trustworthy.

She loves them both and she can't choose. But she has. She's not sure it's the right choice for her, but it is for Bruce. Somehow, she knows he needs to save Gotham. He needs it more than he'll ever need her. So even though she thinks she loves him, wants him, more than she'll ever want or love C.C., she chooses C.C. For Bruce.

* * *

** Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**May 17th, 2000**

Her and C.C. get married on a blustery spring day. Right after they say their vows and arrive at their hotel in Metropolis, she tells him about Bruce. Not everything. Not Bruce's secrets. But she tells him about falling in love. She tells him she's _still_ in love. She also tells him she loves him.

C.C. says he loves her back and he tells her whatever she did while they weren't together is her business and he has no right to be upset with her over it. Marilyn knows C.C. is far too good a man for this world.

One week after their wedding, Marilyn finds out she's pregnant. The baby isn't C.C.s'. She knows without a doubt that the child is Bruces'.

She tells C.C. everything right away. There's no way she could hide it from him. She loves him too much to ever do such a thing. He doesn't care, really. He just seems excited about the child. He does take a moment to ask whether she's going to tell Bruce.

If she has a choice, not until Bruce is much older and so is her child.

The tells C.C. that.

"A man deserves to know his child," C.C. responds. Marilyn kind of hates that he's right.

"You're right," she admits. "I know you are. Just… give me a bit. Please?"

"Of course," C.C. says, voice softening.

* * *

** Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**October 1st, 2000**

Marilyn goes into labor on October 1st, a whole three months early. Her son is tiny and quiet and perfect. For the first time in a long time, she finds herself wishing Bruce were with her. But he's not. She doesn't know where he is. But she has C.C., and that's enough.

They name him William Thomas Batson. Thomas for Bruce's father and William for C.C.'s father. She thinks Bruce will appreciate it.

She writes a letter while she's in the hospital before she can back down. C.C. mails it for her, to Wayne Manor. Even if Bruce isn't there now, he will be eventually. She doesn't exactly want to send it. She doesn't even want to write it in the first place, but C.C. is right; Bruce deserves to know he has a child.

She just hopes he can forgive her for everything else she writes in the letter. For telling him not to come. For telling him she doesn't want him in William's life.

* * *

** Gotham City, U.S.A**

**October 6th, 2000**

Alfred Pennyworth goes and checks the mailbox, just like every other day. Mostly it's bills and other things of the like. But there is one letter that is slightly different. It isn't from a Wayne Enterprises. Instead, it's labeled as being from someone in Fawcett City, a woman named Marilyn Batson. Alfred takes a moment to wonder how they met, why she's trying to send him a letter. He sets it aside on the desk in the study and takes care of the others as he usually does. When Bruce comes back - _If Bruce comes back,_ a traitorous part of Alfred's brain whispers - he'll give it to him.

Bruce comes back four days later and in the insanity of Bruce's whole idea, the Batman, Alfred forgets to give it to Bruce. Instead, the letter is pushed inside a drawer in the bottom of the desk and forgotten.

* * *

** Gotham City, U.S.A.**

**April 1st, 2006**

It's ruled an accident. Terrible and tragic, but an accident. Bruce knows better though. He knows ropes don't just snap like that. And the little boy is screaming and crying about someone touching the wires, too. A nine-year-old-boy who just saw his whole family die.

He resolves to get the boy somewhere safe, somewhere people will help him. The Gotham foster system won't help him. Somehow, he knows the little boy will end up with him. Somehow, he's okay with that. More okay with it that he expects to be, honestly.

Bruce sees a life lost with Dick Grayson. He sees a life he could have had, with children chasing each other in the Manor and settling in next to Marilyn every night. He sees laughter and smiles and huge family gatherings. It's all in his head as nothing more than a wish he's never really dared to wish for fully. Still. It is nice to dream.

* * *

** Al Omraneyah, Giza Governorate, Egypt**

**December 3rd, 2006**

When William turns three he tells her and C.C. in no uncertain terms that he wants to be called Billy. By the time he's six, she and C.C. are in high demand as archeologists. They go on digs all around the world, bringing Billy with them. It's definitely good for him, to get to explore the world with them.

As he gets older she sees more and more of Bruce in him. It's hard, she won't lie. But she knows this is all for the best. Bruce never did get in touch with her after he arrived back in Gotham only a week or so after Billy was born, so she assumes her letter warned him off enough. Either that or he just doesn't care. She prefers the first option.

They go to a dig near Giza at the beginning of December. Billy is sick, at the time. He's usually such a healthy child, but she doesn't want him to be sick on the plane. Her and C.C. decide to leave him in Fawcett City at their house with a caretaker until he's better. They have a ticket waiting for him to come over once he's healthy again.

But plans change, she realizes. She only hopes that Billy is okay. It's all she has time to think before she's dies.

* * *

** Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**December 6th, 2006**

Billy doesn't go to Giza that December. Instead, Billy is picked up by his uncle - Ebenezer Batson - while he's still recovering from influenza. He doesn't really like Uncle Ebenezer, never has.

Billy misses his parents so much.

But they're gone, as Uncle Ebenezer tells him so often now. They're gone and there's no use crying about it.

Billy cries, but he's quiet about it, and only ever cries late at night when he can hear Uncle Ebenezer snoring from his room a floor below.

Uncle Ebenezer is mean. He doesn't hug him like Billy's mom used to. He doesn't make him feel better when he falls and scrapes his knee. He doesn't help Billy with his homework when he can't solve a problem. He locks Billy in his room and makes Billy get rid of everything except clothes, pretty much.

(Billy hides a few things, including a photo album with pictures of him and his parents.)

The summer of 2007 Billy runs away. He has a backpack, three pairs of jeans, two sweatshirts, a t-shirt, one pair of pajamas, a toothbrush and his parents' photo album.

Billy doesn't go to school that autumn. He sleeps in an abandoned subway. He goes to the library and tries to read what he thinks would be school books because even if he's not going to school he knows his parents would want him to keep learning.

Then Billy saves a homeless man and takes a ride on a magical subway train. He gets superpowers. He can be a grown-up. A hero. One who protects people. People who haven't had anyone to protect them in a long time. He's only seven, but he knows how to tell if someone hasn't had anyone in a long time. He knows how to tell if they need help.

Billy joins the Justice League only a few weeks after getting powers. Somehow, he knows telling them he's a kid probably won't go well. He keeps that to himself.

He keeps living in his subway. But with his new powers, with the magic, he's able to go back to school. No one in charge ever asks about his parents or his address. No one tells him he hasn't filled out the right paperwork.

No one tells him he isn't allowed to do anything.

* * *

** Gotham City, U.S.A.**

**October 3rd, 2010**

Bruce sighs deeply. He knows it needs to be done. That doesn't mean he has to like it though. He just needs to do it. Clean out his desk. Waiting will only increase the amount of work.

May as well get started then.

* * *

**_"Italics"_ are Spanish. In other chapters, they may be different languages. I'll try to make sure it's always clear what language the italics stand for. **

**Also, don't think badly of Marilyn. She does love Bruce, but both of them are young. Bruce is only 21 when he meets her, 22 when she leaves. She's only 25/26. They make mistakes. **


	2. The Letter from Marilyn

**So I'm not really sure how often I should post new chapters. It takes a day - tops - to rewrite, but I don't want to be posting daily. Maybe two or three times a week? Opinions? How often do you guys think I should post new chapters for this?**

* * *

** Gotham City, Wayne Manor, U.S.A.**

**October 4th, 2010**

If Bruce is honest with himself, cleaning his desk out for the first time in over ten years is a lot more work than he expects. It needs to be done though, even though he doesn't really want to. He can't deny that finding paperwork will be easier when it's not lost in one of the piles of old documents Bruce has floating around that he really should just get rid of.

Once the surface is cleared off (a monumental task on its own) he starts to go through the drawers. It's amazing how many things he's accumulated in them have nothing to do with work. Bruce is fairly sure he doesn't even make clippings of newspapers, so it's a question how any of the numerous clippings ended up spread in the drawers. There are also quite a few letters, most open, however, a few aren't. He sets the unopened letters aside to look through later and tosses the opened ones. There's also more old paperwork, which joins numerous other things in the trash.

In the end, Bruce has rather large stacks of paper clips, pencils, pens, staples, and blanks paper. He has a few clipboards as well, plus two or three unopened letters to look at.

Or organizes everything else first. The stapes go in a tiny plastic tub which is then put back in the top left drawer. The paper clips join the staples in a plastic tub of their own. The pens and pencils are placed loosely in the top right drawer. Blank paper is in the bottom right drawer. The clipboards are stacked in the bottom left drawer.

Bruce sits down on his leather office chair behind his desk and breaths deeply, eyes closed. It's amazing what even cleaning such a small part of the house can do for him. He takes a moment to enjoy the feeling before reaching for the unopened letters.

One is an invitation to a gala that happened back in 2004. Bruce did go, but he always thought he'd never received an invitation in the first place, or maybe they'd missed sending him one. He'd been able to get in because everyone knew who he was. The second is a funeral notice for a businessman Bruce never liked when he was alive. Bruce had sent flowers after his death though. He tosses both.

The third letter is different. It's handwritten, first of all. He recognizes the handwriting. It hits him suddenly with striking familiarity. The only problem is it says it's from Marilyn Batson.

Bruce, as much as he wants - needs - to know everything, he stayed away from her. He's been tempted to search her, almost has, but he's never actually done it. It just doesn't seem like something she'd want him to brood over. And he's done a spectacular job of not brooding over her if he says so himself.

Apparently, she had married C.C. Batson.

Bruce had always hoped she was lying about calling him. Apparently not.

He slowly opens the letter, careful not to tear anything. His heart clenches at the familiar sight of her looping S's and crooked T's. He takes a moment and just looks at the handwriting. Not reading, just looking.

_Dearest Bruce,_

_I know you're probably wondering why I'm sending you this letter. I know I am. The last you heard from me is telling you we can't be together. Now I'm writing you a letter. This isn't what I wanted to do, but C.C. has always been a better person than me. He insisted I write to you._

_We married. I thought you should know. That isn't the point of the letter, but it seemed important to add. I do love him. I love you too, though, Bruce. But I don't think we were meant to be. Both of us knew that. No matter how much we denied it for those few months in Peru._

_I don't regret it. Being with you, that is. I hope you don't either. It ended in heartbreak, but the result was amazing. I have a son, Bruce. His name is William Thomas Batson. He's not C.C.'s son. He's yours and mine. He was born on October 1st, 2000. He came early. I was so scared, but the doctors say he'll be fine. He just needs a little extra love._

_I wasn't going to tell you about him. I didn't want to. C.C. insisted though. He says a man deserves to know he has a son. But to be clear, C.C. is William's father or is going to be. I don't want you in William's life. (I did name him after your father, however.)_

_You're an amazing person, Bruce. You're a good person. I don't doubt that. But William doesn't deserve to be confused. He doesn't deserve to have to move back and forth just to spend time with his father. He deserves stability. And let's be honest, you're not the most stable person. Or emotionally vulnerable._

_You have the money where you could most definitely get William from us and we'd never see him again. I don't think you will. You know I don't want money. You know I'll do my best to love him. We both know C.C. will be an amazing father._

_If anything ever happens to C.C. and me, I also wanted you to know. You'll be a better person to take care of him than C.C.'s brother, Ebenezer. You'll love him. Ebenezer won't. You won't be named in our will (the publicity!) but this is so you know it's okay to get him from Ebenezer. Do whatever it takes if that ever happens._

_With Love,_

_Marilyn Batson_

Bruce drops the letter to the desk. He has a son. A ten-year-old human child. He's had a child all these years, a son he's never known. He would have known though if only he'd cleaned out his desk. He has a son named William Thomas Batson.

She named their son after his father.

She doesn't want him to know his own son.

It makes sense, he supposes. Being a vigilante isn't the safest career option. He may die at any time. And from what she wrote it seems like William has had a good life. He has a nice, normal, undamaged man for a father. He has a perfect mother.

Bruce's heart _aches_. He could have had her and William. He could have been a father. If he'd been able to convince her (or himself. Mostly himself) that he would give up his quest for justice they could have gone back to America together. He could have raised a son in the Manor. He could have had more children. Dick certainly would have liked to have children his age (or near to it) when he first came to live with Bruce.

His mind whirls with a million miles an hour with all what-ifs and could-have-beens.

It's in this state that Alfred finds Bruce in a few hours later, sitting in his chair with his head in his hands, pale and unresponsive.

"Master Bruce, whatever is the matter?" Alfred asks, sounding concerned and curious.

Bruce doesn't answer at first. Instead, he takes a moment longer to compose himself at least slightly and looks up at Alfred with red-rimmed eyes.

Bruce gestures to the letter still sitting innocently on his desk.

"Read it," he tells Alfred shortly.

It sounds like a command, but both him and Alfred know it isn't Bruce who gives the commands. Bruce knows Alfred won't be offended at the tone, especially once he reads the letter. He definitely won't take the words at face value after reading it. And Bruce knows Alfred can tell he's in pain. Not physical pain, emotional.

Alfred raises an eyebrow and grabs the letter smoothly, taking a moment to read through it. As he goes his eyebrows climb higher and higher. Near what must be the end of the letter, Alfred's eyebrows are so high Bruce knows if he still had hair his eyebrows would be hidden in it.

"There it is," Bruce says tiredly.

Alfred looks up at Bruce, whole posture softening.

"So… is it true, Master Bruce?"

"I don't know, Alfred," Bruce sighs, burying his face in his hands again. "We were together in Peru briefly." Bruce decides to spare the detail. Those aren't things he needs Alfred knowing. "Judging by when she says her son was born, he would have to be mine. But… I don't think I should look into it further," Bruce admits. As much as it hurts to say, Bruce should probably just let sleeping dragons lie.

He feels hopeless. He wants to respect Marilyn's wishes, and yet at the same time… he wants to, needs to know more about the boy. His son. He's torn between following her wishes to stay away or looking for more information.

Of course, she could be lying to him, but Bruce's gut tells him she's not. It's not like she demands hush money in the letter, and he knows there haven't been any rumors of him having a son, well, none any more credible than usual.

"If I may be so bold, Master Bruce?"

"Of course, Alfred," Bruce replies automatically.

"Follow the young woman's wishes. Stay away, for now. But… it can't hurt to look up the boy, see whether he's happy and look at pictures of him." Bruce sends Alfred a thankful look. Alfred smiles fondly at Bruce and pats him on the shoulder. "I shall leave you alone with your thoughts, for now, my boy."

Alfred turns away and begins to head out of the study. Just as the door is about to close, Bruce whispers brokenly: "She named him after my dad, Alfred."

* * *

**Gotham City, The Batcave, U.S.A.**

**October 4th, 2010**

It isn't hard to find Marilyn by simply searching her name. The Batcomputer organizes every mention of her online chronologically starting from after they'd parted in Peru. The first one is a wedding announcement between her and C.C. Batson.

There are lots of smaller mentions of her that Bruce ignores. He doesn't ignore a birth announcement of a boy named William Thomas Batson to her and C.C. Batson. Bruce reads it eagerly. It doesn't say a lot, mostly talks about how he was born early.

Bruce changes the search after that, instead, he looks for every mention of William Thomas Batson. There isn't a lot. He's mentioned in a few articles alongside Marilyn and her husband. Mostly just saying he travels with them when they go on archeological digs around the world. But soon - too soon - there are only two mentions of William left. One is in a death announcement for Marilyn and C.C. Batson, who were murdered while on a dig in Giza. the next is a missing person report filed by his uncle, Ebenezer Batson.

Bruce feels his heart clench. Was William killed in Giza with his mother and father? (Bruce isn't his father, he knows that even if he is biologically William's father, he's not the one who raised him.)

Bruce does more digging, praying that William hadn't died. He doesn't know if he can handle that, gaining and losing a son in a matter of hours.

Soon he finds it, a mention of William. It's from a newspaper doing an article on the Batsons. William had stayed home with influenza when his parents died. He ran away from his uncle's home a few weeks later.

Bruce remembers Marilyn's begging to keep William away from Ebenezer if anything happened to her and C.C. and suddenly he wonders. How bad is Ebenezer Batson really? Is he the monster she makes him sound like, or simply just not good with children? That will require more investigating later, but for now, Bruce needs to find William. If he's even still alive.

Bruce does a more in-depth search, looking through homeless shelter records, foster records, and death records for a boy between the ages of six and ten that matches William's description.

Fawcett City, however, is not known for its hard crime. In all honesty, it's one of the best cities in the U.S. to live in if you want to avoid gangs, murders, and robberies. Always has been, and Captain Marvel just makes it that much safer. Plus the Captain has a way of putting civilians at ease.

Bruce entertains asking Captain Marvel for help but disregards the idea a minute later. He doesn't want anyone to know what's going on, for now at least. All Bruce knows is that he can't find William anywhere in Fawcett City. Not dead, not homeless, not in the system. All Bruce knows is once he finds William - if he finds William - the boy will be coming to live with him, even if Marilyn was wrong about him being Bruce's son.

(He doesn't think she's wrong. Marilyn was always so smart, smarter than Bruce, probably. She knows what she's talking about 100% of the time. He trusts she's not wrong about William, even if he will have to be sure.)

Then Bruce, just as he's about to expand his search parameters to a one-hundred-mile radius of Fawcett City, sees something unusual. William's name on a school field trip list. As a student. But as Bruce looks closer he notices that there's no paperwork, no proof William even goes to the school. No records of him. It's like he just showed up one day and no one questioned it. The fact that he doesn't have guardians or a house and isn't even technically enrolled.

Curious.

How he managed that is beyond Bruce. No hacking. Just… Bruce isn't even sure how to explain it, to be honest. It's obvious William is smart, to have managed this he has to be. But _how_? How had he managed this?

But even as Bruce searches more he finds himself thinking more and more about William. He finally has a solid lead on the boy's whereabouts. According to the most recent field trip the entire school took, William was still attending. Bruce knows where his _son_ is. And he's still in Fawcett City. He doesn't know where William sleeps, but he does know where William spends his day.

"Hey, Bruce! You down here?" a familiar voice yells. "Alfred said you were when I asked. He wouldn't tell me why though."

Bruce ignores Dick. If he really actually wants to talk to Bruce he'll come down himself. A moment later Dick comes into sight with his backpack slung behind his back, only one arm in a strap. Dick's still in his school uniform, which means he must have just gotten home. He hates the uniform with a passion Bruce is always impressed by.

"Hey, B. I was wondering if I could head out to the mountain? Wally and I are planning a video game marathon, and to teach Supey to play without crushing the controllers. Speaking of, do we have any extra controllers, you know, just in case?"

"There should be some extra controllers in the cupboard above the TV," Bruce replies automatically. "Before you go I need to talk to you about something important."

"Did someone break out of Arkham?" he asks. "Was it Scarecrow or Poison Ivy. Did Riddler show up? He has been in the wind since escaping from Belle Reve."

Dick looks almost giddy at the idea. Bruce spares a moment to worry about how excited Dick looks at the prospect of violent criminals breaking out of jail and mental wards and worries. He'll have to talk to him about that. Later.

"No one broke out of Arkham. But tomorrow you're taking the day off school and we're going to Fawcett City."

"Am I allowed to ask why?"

"We're going to try and find my son."

Dick freezes and turns to look at Bruce with wide eyes.

"Did I mishear you?"

"No."

"You have a son? When did this happen!?" Dick screeches.

"About ten years ago," Bruce deadpans. "I wasn't… aware until today. I met the boy's mother in Peru while training. We didn't stay together. She sent me a letter about the boy, asked me to stay away unless she and her new husband died. I just found the letter today."

"They died, didn't they?" Dick asks.

Bruce inclines his head. "Almost four years ago now. The boy was taken in by his uncle, but he ran away a few weeks later. I don't know where he's been living, but he has been going to school since he was seven. As far as I can tell he just showed up and no one questioned it."

Dick hopped onto the consul of the Batcomputer and swung his legs back and forth. "Could she have lied?" He doesn't ask about Billy's mysterious ability to go to school, but Bruce finds that less important to think about as more time goes on.

"She's not the type to lie," Bruce says. "She could be wrong, I suppose, but I'd be surprised if she was. Even if she is, he'll be coming to stay with us. She mentioned in her letter that she didn't want his uncle to be his guardian."

"If he's coming to live with us I guess I should know his name," Dick says.

"William Thomas Batson," Bruce says. "After my father and her husband's father."

Dick stares at Bruce for a long moment before he bursts out in a fit of laughter.

"Sorry, sorry," he giggles. "It's just, oh god, his last name is _Batson_. He's the _Bat's son_! Bruce, that's hilarious!"

* * *

**Don't worry; we get to Billy next chapter. :)**

**Also, I hope I made the letter seem genuine enough. I'm not sure how it sounds. Opinions?**


	3. The First Impression

**So, this chapter is our first taste of Billy as he is in Young Justice. Enjoy!**

* * *

** Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**October 4th, 2010**

Billy is one of many students who pour out of Fawcett City Elementary School and into the chilly autumn air. He likes it, being a nameless person in the crowd. It makes him feel more normal, more like if he sticks with the crowd he may hear his mom calling him or see her looking for him. He won't, but it gives him a moment to imagine she might be there.

The moment is gone as soon as the crowd starts to disperse. Half of the students are picked up by parents and the other half walks home. Billy sticks with the half walking home as long as he can before splitting off and heading towards the east side of Fawcett City (know for its slums and abandoned/condemned buildings). No one else goes that way.

Billy walks with his head down and the hood of his aptly named hoody pulled low over his eyes. He's pretty confident in east side Fawcett City, but always better to be safe than sorry. People can be nasty.

He's so distracted that he doesn't even notice the figure standing in front of him. He accidentally bumps into the older boy, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

"Hey, watch it, Billy," the boy complains.

Billy looks up at the boy and grins, jumping to his feet and holding his hand out. "Sorry, Freddy," Billy says sheepishly. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Freddy shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. "I figured I'd come to say hi to you before my trip. I mean, how will you survive without me to keep you company for a whole week?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Billy says drily.

"I don't know," Freddy says. "You may die without me."

"Haha," Billy deadpans. "But seriously, have fun camping with your grandpa. Take lots of pictures for me!"

"I will," Freddy promises, shoving Billy with his shoulder a little. Billy shoves right back.

"Wanna come to my place?" Billy asks. "Will your grandpa mind?"

"Nah, I told him I was going to your place. He said that was fine. I think us not going to the same school and seeing each other less makes him more willing to let me hang out with you."

"It's not my fault you're in middle school," Billy says. "You're just too old."

"I'm like a year and a half older than you."

"Your point is…"

"It's not that big a difference. Next year we'll be in the same school anyway," Freddy dismisses. "I'll be in sixth grade and you'll be in fifth. That's pretty awesome."

"Yeah, it is," Billy agrees. "Middle school, dude! I'll be an official middle schooler."

"It's really not as exciting as it seems," Freddy says dubiously.

Billy shrugs Freddy's attitude off. They both know it's only because Freddy doesn't like school. He likes sports and superheroes. Billy know this because they're best friends, have been since Billy first started school again and they were in the same building, albeit not in the same grade even then. Freddy was the only person to not call Billy annoying back when Billy first got back to school after almost a year of missing it. He was also the only person who talked to Billy.

In turn, Billy knows one of the reasons Freddy calls Billy his best friend is because Billy was one - is one - of the only people to not be drawn in by Freddy's popularity and the fact that he's an amazing baseball player. At least that's why Freddy tells him that he chose Billy as his best friend.

"Hey, you need any help with homework?" Freddy asks.

"Nope. I just have to finish a paper due next week. I think I'll be good today. Why? Do you have any homework?" Billy asks innocently, knowing full well Freddy probably does.

"Yeah," Freddy sighs despondently and runs a hand through his brown hair. "I have a _ton_ of science stuff to do. Grandpa says the only way I could hang out with you today was if I did some of it with you. So, wanna help?"

"I guess I can," Billy sighs.

"Don't act like you're sad about that," Freddy snaps good-naturedly. "We both know you live for science stuff."

"And history," Billy agrees. "I love history."

"Especially all those weird myths from Rome, Egypt, Greece, and stuff," Freddy says. "What's up with that, by the way?"

Billy shrugs. "My parents were archeologists," he says. "You know? So they found all sorts of stuff about ancient gods and stuff. I probably know, like, all the stories. It just makes me thinks of them, so I like to read about them."

Freddy makes a sympathetic noise. "I know what you mean. My dad used to play ball with me all the time before he and mom went to jail, and I know he's not a _good _guy, but I like baseball because it reminds me of when things were okay."

Freddy always knows just what to say to make Billy feel better, or at least take his mind off of things. Freddy is the only person who knows Billy is homeless. He's the only person Billy trusts not to tell. Freddy was going to when Billy first told him, but Bill had explained… not everything, but enough to convince his friend he'd be fine alone.

Freddy still worries though, which is why he comes over so often. Billy thinks it's nice, having someone care about him so much. It's also kind of funny to him, that Freddy thinks he needs taking care of. Billy is _Captain Marvel_, for goodness' sake! Not that Freddy knows that, of course.

"Hey, we're here!" Freddy exclaims. "Come on!"

"Wait up," Billy squawks as Freddy run into the run-down dirty yellow apartment building ahead of him. "It's my apartment!"

"I'm not waiting for you!" Freddy yells without turning. "You're so _slow_!"

"Am not!" Billy shouts back, running to catch up to Freddy, who is already heading up the rickety stairs.

"Are too!"

Billy slows down after a moment. He knows he won't catch up to Freddy. He also knows Freddy has an extra key, so he won't need to wait to go into Billy's apartment.

Freddy has only asked how Billy manages to stay hidden from building inspectors and keep the heat, electricity, _and_ water running. Billy explains it by saying he hides and he must just be lucky, respectively. It's a good answer, but it's not true. It's all magic. Magic keeps it warm and keeps the building inspectors from even going to his floor. They just skip it like it's not even there.

Billy sometimes wonders if part of why the Wizard chose him is because he already has a natural affinity for magic, just needed training. Billy knows all his magic (in his mortal form) is enhanced by Captain Marvel, but it's still his, not Captain Marvel's magic. He just has the proper tools and books to use it now.

"You coming?" Freddy shouts from a few flights of stairs up.

"Coming!" Billy shouts back, starting to walk again. He'd stopped without even noticing, too caught up in his own head to notice. "I'm coming, Freddy!"

* * *

**Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**October 5th, 2010**

It's cold, even colder than it had been yesterday. It's the type of cold that settles in your bones and makes you wish for summer. Normally Billy loves autumn. The color of the leaves. The cheeriness that seems almost contagious. But today he just wishes that it could be warm. He doesn't like it to be this cold. It almost feels like the weather is warning him. About what, he doesn't know.

He doesn't dwell on vaguely unsettled the feeling that's been hitting him since he woke up. It's probably nothing but paranoia. Or maybe there's a storm coming. Billy always gets kinda uneasy before a storm hits Fawcett City, even when he doesn't know a storm is going to hit.

He leaves the schoolyard and heads west, towards the middle school nearby. With luck, Freddy won't mind if Billy comes over to his house.

"Hey, do you know where Freddy is?" Billy asks a grimy teenager smoking something that's definitely not a cigarette. The teenager definitely goes to the high school nearby, but almost everyone in this area of the city knows who Freddy is. Freddy is just that type of charismatic person.

The teen leers at Billy like he's trying to scare him. Billy doesn't react, despite the teen gross yellow teeth being bared at him in a feral grin.

The teen moves back and nods to himself as if Billy's passed a test.

"Tall kid? Baseball cap?"

Billy nods eagerly.

"He got in this old guys car after school got out."

"Duh," Billy says to himself slapping his forehead. Freddy started his camping trip today after school. Billy should have remembered that. Man, this cold must really be messing with him. "Thanks, dude."

"No problem, kid," the teen says. "Have a good one."

He goes back to smoking. Billy turns around. Now what will he do all day? Yeah, his apartment is warm, but that doesn't mean he wants to spend the _whole_ day alone in it. Maybe he should go shopping. But he doesn't really have anything other than a few dollars left from his last shopping trip. He'll need to find a way to earn some more cash. Mowing lawns won't exactly work this time of year.

Maybe he can rake leaves?

Ugh. That means he has to do that today, make enough to last for a least a month's worth of groceries, and extra for new winter gear. Then again, if he works quickly enough, he may even get some extra spending money to afford food other than ramen noodles, cereal, mac n cheese, and a few fruits and veggies. Eating healthier food is always nice. Maybe he can even get some frozen pizza.

Plans made, Billy takes off for the nearest residential neighborhood he knows is full of adults who find it _cute _when kids come and ask to do jobs like rake leaves, mow lawns, weed gardens, and shovel snow.

Billy's pretty sure he has half of that neighborhood he's a kid that lives there. It's one of his favorite places to live. Some of the people even give him snacks and lemonade when he works.

Afterword, he can patrol as Captain Marvel, then he'll go shopping. Or he'll go shopping tomorrow if anything big happens while he's Captain Marvel. He doesn't think there'll be anything more than a few shoplifters today though. Even the criminal element in Fawcett City know when it's too cold to commit a crime. Cold as it is, autumn and winter are the slowest seasons to fight crime.

Billy is so glad he lives in Fawcett City where the criminals are reasonable and know when it's too cold to be committing a crime. He can't imagine how annoying it must be for Batman to fight crime in Gotham City in the middle of winter since crime _never_ slows down in Gotham.

"Hey," a voice says, and Billy feels a hand land on his shoulder. Billy jumps about a hundred feet in the air and lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp. "Sorry, sorry!" the voice says quickly.

"It's fine," Billy says, catching his breath and looking over the owner of the voice. A kid with messy black hair - possibly a young teen - wearing sunglasses and relaxed clothing (Billy's leaning towards him being a kid. Probably twelve. Too short to be a teenager). "You just surprised me."

"Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people," the boys says ruefully, running one of his hands through his hair in a gesture that reminds Billy of Freddy. "Sorry again. I was just wondering if you could help me."

"Main Street is that way," Billy says immediately, pointing north. "Go there and you can pretty much find wherever you're looking for without too much trouble."

"No, I just needed help finding someone who goes to the elementary school," the boy says. "William Thomas Batson? Maybe you know him?"

Bily looks over the boy more closely. It doesn't seem like he's looking for trouble. You can never be too careful though.

"Why do you need him?" Billy asks. "Do you know him?"

"Nah," the kid dismisses. "My guardian had an old letter from the kid's mom, Marilyn Batson. He figured William may want to see it."

And Billy's tempted to ask how they even know where he is; it's not like he's an official student - not that any of his teachers or the other students know that. But at the mention of his mom, that thought is erased from his mind.

"I'm William. I prefer Billy though." Billy holds out his hand.

"Well, that was serendipitous," the boys says, grabbing Billy's hand firmly. "I'm Dick."

Billy doesn't manage to stop himself from snorting.

"I'm sorry," he says right away. Not for thinking it's funny, necessarily, but for being rude and laughing about it.

"It's fine," the boy says. "I've heard pretty much everything, believe me. Anywho, Dick Grayson, as I said."

Billy does a double-take. "Wha- Dick Grayson!" he whispers furiously, looking around. "Like, _Dick Grayson?!_"

The boy- Dick Grayson, looks amused. Something about the expression combined with the sunglasses is familiar, but for the life of him, Billy can't quite put his finger on why. It bugs him, and he's sure he'll think about it later, but for now, he's too focused on the immediate issues. Like that fact that Dick-freaking-Grayson is looking for him.

"Yes," Dick says, amused. He even takes his sunglasses off briefly, and sure enough, it's the teenager. Billy may not have a TV or watch the news, but he knows what Dick Grayson looks like. Mainly because Bruce Wayne funds the Justice League publicly and that means he's pretty familiar with both of their images.

"My mom sent a letter to Bruce Wayne?" is his next question.

"They met abroad before your parents were married," Dick explains. Anyway, I'm gonna call Bruce and have him meet me here." At Billy's confused look, Dick looks away from the phone he pulled out a moment ago. "He was looking for you closer to the elementary school."

"Ah," Billy says.

Dick speaks briefly into the cell phone before pulling it away from his ear and hanging up.

"He'll be here in a minute," Dick informs Billy. "You don't mind waiting here?"

"No," Billy says.

"Good."

A few moments later a tall, broad man in a suit appears. He's wearing sunglasses like Dick. Unlike Dick, he seems uncomfortable. It isn't hard for Billy to tell this is really Bruce Wayne, which automatically makes him more relaxed. Bruce Wayne funds the League, Batman even approves of him doing so, so that means Bruce Wayne isn't a bad person. Batman would never associate with someone if they had something even vaguely shady in their past.

"Hello," Bruce Wayne says. "You must be William?"

His voice is surprisingly gentle, considering his size. Billy still can't get over the fact that _Bruce Wayne_ came to Fawcett City just to find Billy and let him look at an old letter from his mom, even though the letter certainly isn't anything Billy _needs _to see.

"Yes," Billy says. "I prefer Billy though, if that's okay, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce Wayne seems surprised by how eager Billy is. Or Maybe he's just surprised Billy's so trusting. Anyone who has ever seen Billy as a street kid is surprised by that. It's not that Billy's that trusting; he's not. Billy's just good at reading people. Also, he's not nervous around Bruce Wayne because Justice League funding. Not that Bruce Wayne knows that. Even though it's public, it's not exactly common knowledge outside of League members who their main funder is.

"I have the letter your mother sent me, Billy, if you want to see it?"

"Yes, I'd really love that, Mr. Wayne," Billy says.

"She sent it to me right after you were born," Mr. Wayne says. "It ended up getting lost in my desk, which is why I didn't find it until recently."

"Were you and her friends?" Billy asks. "How did you meet?"

"I'd like to think so," Mr. Wayne says, a surprisingly fond look on his face. "We met in Peru before she or your father were going to be married."

"That's interesting," Billy says honestly. "What was the letter she sent you about?"

Mr. Wayne sighs deeply. Something in Billy's gut twists uncomfortably.

"It was about you. I mentioned she sent it right after you were born. I have it here if you'd like to see it now?"

"Yes, please, Mr. Wayne," Billy says.

Mr. Wayne pulls a piece of paper out of his suit pocket and holds it out to Billy. Billy grabs it gently with shaking hands.

It still smells like her perfume. It's a reminder that she had been real, once. It's nice because even though Billy logically knows she'd been real before she died, having a reminder is nice. He misses her so much. Her and his dad.

He unfolds the paper with a gentleness that surprises even him. Her handwriting is just like he remembers it being from the notes she'd leave for him on his lunch box and hidden inside his books or even just shopping lists on the fridge. He spends what's probably more time than necessary just looking at it without reading.

When he finally does begin to read the letter, he almost drops it a moment later. He fumbles for a moment before regaining his grip and reading even faster.

No. No no no no no no no no. This can't… this can't be true. (But it has to be, a voice whispers in his mind. This is her handwriting. She wouldn't lie about it.)

Oh, god. His mom had written to Bruce Wayne. His mom had told Bruce Wayne Billy was his son. But it just can't be - Billy refuses to believe it's true. His parents would have told him if it was true. They wouldn't have kept it a secret. Why would his dad even love him and let Billy call him that if he wasn't Billy's real dad?

This has to be a lie, a trick. It can't be true. It just _can't_.

Billy's dad is C.C. Batson, not some rich guy his mom probably only knew for a few months in another _country_.

"This isn't true," Billy says, ashamed by how much his voice is shaking. "You can't be my dad. My dad is C.C. Batson. You're lying. I know it."

His voice breaks on the last word. Billy hopes neither of them notices it. He ignores how hurt Mr. Wayne looks _and_ how shocked Dick Grayson looks.

(Billy knows this isn't a lie. Somehow, someway, he knows this isn't a lie. He just doesn't want to believe it.)

"I'm sorry," Mr. Wayne says honestly. "I really am. But your mother was one of the most honest people I ever knew. I don't think she's lying."

Billy refuses to even think about this. (He ignores how similar he looks to Bruce Wayne. How he's even more similar to Bruce Wayne that C.C. Batson. Really, if he was with both of them, people would assume he's Bruce Wayne's son, not his dads.)

Billy shakes his head desperately. "No. _No_! You have to be lying. I don't believe you."

"Listen, Billy," Dick begins. "How about this. You know what a paternity test is, right?"

"Yes," Billy says shortly. "I'm not dumb."

"Then take one," Dick says. "If it matches then that means you're Bruce's son, biologically. Your dad is still your dad. Biology doesn't change that."

Mr. Wayne adjusts his jacket, seeming spectacularly uncomfortable. "I'd been planning one of those already. I don't think she's lying, but maybe she was wrong. I figured you'd like to know the truth."

And Billy does want to know the truth, even if it's a truth he doesn't like.

"I'll take the test," Billy says, the anger from earlier evaporating as suddenly as it had appeared. Now he just feels kind of tired. He's glad this street is empty. That no one can have possibly seen this.

"I brought my friend, Dr. Leslie Thompkins with me. She has all the equipment to do the test in my hotel room. We can go back there if that's okay with you," Mr. Wayne says. It doesn't really sound like a question, but Billy can tell it is a question.

"Okay. Okay. Are we walking?"

"I have a car?" Mr. Wayne suggests.

And the first rule of being a street kid is you don't get in a strangers car. Billy knows this. It's one of the first lessons you learn, either from getting in a strangers car or hearing the horror stories of what happens when you get in a strangers car. Billy may not like Bruce Wayne right now, but he knows he won't try anything. He knows Bruce Wayne is a good person. And even if he wasn't a good person and Billy was dumb enough to get in the car, Billy can protect himself, both with Captain Marvel and the magic he always has at his disposal.

"We can take that," Billy says. "I mean if that's what you want to do?"

Mr. Wayne smiles slightly and Dick Grayson beams at him.

* * *

** What do you think? In character? How about Freddy? I debated, but in the end, I decided to make him older than Billy. So Billy has just turned ten as of three days ago in this story and Freddy is about 11 1/2. Think it works? Also, how did Billy and Bruce's interaction seem? I like to write it, but I don't think I'm very good at interactions like the one they're having? Also, does Billy seem a little too street smart? Sorry for a quiz at the end of this. Feel free to ignore me. :)**


	4. Positive

**So sorry this took so long to finish! Long story short, injured my wrist pretty bad, had a paper to finish that I hadn't started, 20+ hours of work, and a snowstorm. Hope the wait was worth it! It's a tad shorter than the last chapter, but still pretty good! Enjoy!**

* * *

** Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**October 5th, 2010**

The car ride is silent. Billy isn't sure if it's because Mr. Wayne is a quiet person or if it's Billy's own hostile attitude towards… well, everything that's keeping everyone quiet. Billy's unwilling to break the silence, and it seems, so are they. The entire ride is - in a word - awkward. Tense is another word Billy might use.

It's almost worse because Billy is sitting in the back and both Mr. Wayne and Dick Grayson are sitting in the front seats, passing meaningful looks back and forth so smoothly that it reminds Billy of how Batman and Robin communicate. In fact, something about them is oddly familiar, and not just in how smoothly they communicate. But that's silly to think; Billy has never seen either of them before today.

It doesn't take long for Mr. Wayne to pull the car to a stop in front of what has to be the fanciest hotel Billy has ever seen in his short life. There's a man in a red uniform waiting by the door who takes the keys from Mr. Wayne and immediately gets into the car, driving it off towards a parking lot. Billy watches for a moment before following Mr. Wayne and Dick into the hotel.

Rich people are weird, he decides. Is it really that hard to park your own car? Or to have to walk more than fifteen feet in slightly chilly air to get inside a building? Mr. Wayne doesn't seem like the type of person to be so lazy. Billy doesn't really _like _Mr. Wayne at the moment, but he doesn't think he's so self-centered either.

As they walk through the hotel, Billy watches Mr. Wayne. He smiles a lot, more than Billy would expect. He also comes off as slightly goofy. But the thing is Billy doesn't think that's how Mr. Wayne really is, because as soon as they're out of sight of the hotel receptionist and other guests in the waiting room, he goes right back to being the quiet and introspective man who gave Billy his mom's letter and drove them here. Mr. Wayne puts on a very noticeable front, at least to Billy.

He files the information away for later.

They don't walk very far. In what feels like no time at all to Billy they arrive at a hotel room. Mr. Wayne slides a card and the door pops open, revealing a room that is at _least_ as large as Billy's old house from when his parents were alive.

He snaps his mouth shut. He hadn't even noticed it had dropped. The whole place looks like it should be where a movie star stays, or even a king. Heck, some of the gods Billy has met would be happy to stay here, and they're the pickiest beings Billy has ever met.

Billy tries to keep his emotions in check. As cool as this is (and extremely extravagant), he doesn't want to be impressed or amazed. He doesn't want to acknowledge that any of this may be true. That maybe, just maybe, C.C. Batson isn't his biological dad. He just wants to go home and pretend that this isn't happening.

After a moment, Billy notices a woman near the back of the room. She has brown hair with grey streaks. She also wears a lab coat. This is probably Dr. Leslie Thompkins, Billy realizes.

"Hello," she says, looking up at the sound of the door closing and walking towards them. "I see you're back, Bruce. And you must be Billy. I'm Dr. Thompkins. How do you do?"

"I'm Billy Batson, but I guess you knew that."

Dr. Thompkins' lips twitch at his name as if he's told a spectacularly funny joke and she is trying her hardest not to laugh. Billy isn't quite sure what she finds so funny about his name, but she seems like an okay person. Something about her is just very soothing.

"Do you know what you're doing here?" she asks.

Billy scowls slightly. "Yeah. I do. Mr. Wayne told me he wants to do a paternity test because of a letter my mom sent him after I was born."

"Go ahead and sit down then," she says, gesturing towards a chair. "I'm just going to be doing a cheek swab. Then I'll use that. An analysis shouldn't take long; the equipment is all here."

Billy sits down. "Doesn't DNA analysis take longer to do than an hour? I thought it took a day or two."

Dr. Thompkins seems surprised by his question. She shoots an impressed look to Mr. Wayne.

"Normally it does," she concedes. "I have equipment that makes it a bit faster and easier."

"Ah," Billy says. It makes sense Mr. Wayne is able to have it done quicker and easier. He has money. Money makes everything easier and faster.

As Dr. Thompkins gathers what must be the proper equipment. Out of the corner of his eye, Billy sees Mr. Wayne sit down awkwardly on the end of a bed as if he's not quite sure what to do with himself. Something about that strikes him as funny, even if he doesn't laugh. Dick sits down on the floor at Mr. Wayne's feet.

Billy isn't quite sure what to make of Dick. The teen is so friendly it's abrasive. Billy's met his fair share of teens during his years being homeless. Most of them aren't this friendly. They're okay, sure, but they're also high half the time. It makes it hard to talk to them or enjoy their company.

"Open please," Dr. Thompkins says.

Billy drops his mouth open and lets her swab it with the cotton. The rubber gloves she's wearing are uncomfortable and feel strange when they brush the inside of his mouth. She removes the cotton after a moment, leaving his mouth dry.

She drops the cotton swab into a plastic bag quickly and zips the bag.

"The results should be back in about an hour. I'm going to go and run them in the other room."

As she leaves, Billy finds himself thinking that he hadn't even noticed the hotel room had more rooms. How big is it?

Billy hopes that the test comes back negative. He hopes that he's not Mr. Wayne's son. But the more Billy thinks about it the more he can see it being true. His mom wouldn't have written the letter if it wasn't the truth. And honestly, Billy looks like Mr. Wayne a lot. A lot more than he looked like C.C. Batson, at any rate.

The room is quiet. No one really talks or moves, nor do they make a move to do so. Billy thinks it's because they're not quite sure what to say to him. There's a moment where Mr. Wayne shifts as if to stand up or say something, but in the end, he stills again. Billy's thankful for that, in a way. He doesn't think he's ready to face this all, not fully, at least.

They all stay quiet for the rest of the hour until Dr. Thompkins comes back, lips thin and almost frowning. She's holding onto a small stack of papers tightly, knuckles white. Billy thinks he knows what she's going to say.

"The paternity results are here," she says, holding the papers out to Mr. Wayne, who is quick to snatch them and reads quickly. She retreats to the other room and closes the door, leaving the three of them alone.

Mr. Wayne's face is stiff. Billy finds himself unable to read the man's expression easily, which is beyond frustrating.

Finally, Mr. Wayne looks up at Billy. He feels his heart sink.

"I am, aren't I?" Billy asks. "Your son, I mean."

Wordlessly, Mr. Wayne stands up and gives the papers to Billy. Mostly they're full of techno mumbo-jumbo that Billy doesn't have a chance of understanding unless the Wisdom of Solomon is coming into play.

_The chances of Doner 1 being the biological father of Doner 2 is 99.78%. This is considered a positive result because of-_

Billy sets the papers down, hands shaking slightly. He drops his hands to his sides so no one notices. Mr. Wayne is his dad, biologically at least. The letter had said that his dad, C.C., knew about it, he knew that Billy was Mr. Wayne's son. Did he still love Billy? He remembers his dad loved him, but what if it was all a lie?

Well, it was, in a way. They hadn't told Billy. They'd lied about it and said he was C.C.'s son. Even his mom lied to him. And sure, maybe they'd eventually been planning to come clean, but they'd died before they could. They'd died and left Billy alone with Uncle Ebenezer.

(At least there's one positive, Billy finds himself thinking. He's not related to Uncle Ebenezer.)

Billy feels hot tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He wipes them roughly with his sleeve.

A moment later, he feels a hand on his shoulder. Billy looks up into Mr. Wayne's eyes. He looks, not pitying, but understanding, which is a step higher than Billy had expected. It's strange. It's not exactly unwelcome.

"I am sorry, Billy," Mr. Wayne says sincerely. "If I had known…"

"What?" Billy asks dully, feeling drained and lifeless. "What would you have done? Taken me from them?"

"No. But I would have been there for you after they died. I would have been there instead of your uncle. Maybe I could have been there and you wouldn't have run away."

Billy stiffens. "You know about that, huh?"

"You aren't in a foster home. You haven't been adopted. Officially, you're still a missing person. The only reason was that I found your name on a school field trip checklist. Not in the system though…"

"So, what now?" Billy asks, trying to steer the conversation away from his magical attendance. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

Somehow, Billy knows the answer. Mr. Wayne isn't anything like he seems to be on television. He's nice, kind, understanding. It's hard to be mad at him.

"No, I'm not."

"I can't leave Fawcett," Billy tries. He sounds desperate. He _is_ desperate. Fawcett City is his life. It's his home. All his friends are here. His work is here. It's where he lived with his parents when they were alive.

"You can't continue living alone," Mr. Wayne argues. "It's not safe, especially not if you're only ten."

"I've been plenty safe so far," Billy mutters. "I don't need to be protected. I never have."

"You're ten. Wouldn't you like to feel safe? Have a warm place to sleep?"

Billy bites back the comment about his apartment being warm. He can't let them know about his magic. Not yet, at least. He doesn't want to put them in danger or make them think he's a bad guy.

"Billy, the point is Bruce doesn't want to hide you like an inconvenience or get rid of you. You're not a problem and he's not ashamed of you. He just wants you to be safe. He's just really, _really _bad with feelings," Dick finally bursts out.

"It's not that," Billy says. To be honest, the idea that maybe Mr. Wayne may have wanted him hidden so he didn't have to deal with a surprise son hadn't even occurred to Billy. It is nice to know that he doesn't want to hide Billy, though. "I just really love it here. It's where… it's where I lived with my parents."

Sure, now the tears are crocodile tears, but if it works… well, he's not exactly going to complain. And even though the tears are fake now, a big part of his words is true. He doesn't want to leave because it's the last place his family lived together, whole and happy. But he also doesn't want to leave because this city _needs_ Captain Marvel. He can't just leave.

"I- I understand that," Mr. Wayne says awkwardly. "I do. But I can't just leave you alone. Please, understand your mother asked me to take care of you if anything happened to her or - or your father."

And Billy does. It's certainly nice to know that his mother didn't want him staying with Uncle Ebenezer, at any rate. That she had a backup plan.

"I understand," Billy says. He does, really. And he knows there's no possible way he's going to be able to convince Mr. Wayne to leave him alone. In a way, it will be nice. To not have to worry about money anymore. Or the other things he generally has to worry about.

Mr. Wayne doesn't say anything else and removes his hand from Billy's shoulder. He stays in place for a moment before wandering off after Dr. Thompkins, leaving Billy and Dick Grayson alone.

"Bruce can be a little rough around the edges," Dick says. "It doesn't mean anything though, so don't take whatever he says to heart, or do, depending. He's kinds of… weird."

Billy looks over at Dick. "Well, it's not like that's that strange. Grown-ups are always weird."

"That they are. I'm still trying to figure out why myself."

"Me too," Billy agrees.

"And about your parents, I'm sorry."

"It's been a long time."

"Still," Dick says, sounding much too knowing about the feeling of having your family die. "Sorry. I know how much it sucks. Especially when you have to go live with a stranger."

Billy studies Dick, who is no longer looking at him. And somehow, Billy can see himself living with them. He'll just need to figure out a way to keep working as Captain Marvel.

* * *

** Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**October 6th, 2010**

Billy stays the night in the hotel with them. They let him have one of the many rooms himself, even let him lock the door. It makes him feel much safer. He may think they're good people, but he's not dumb. He's not just going to trust them completely.

The only issue is today is a school day. Billy can't just skip, but apparently, he's supposed to. He doesn't like that. Billy hasn't missed a day of school except for when he's been sick. It feels irresponsible to miss it today, even if it's for a good reason. Maybe he should make them think he's transferred. He's pretty sure he can cast a spell to do that.

Billy will have to somehow sneak away to cast another spell. Or maybe he'll just call in sick for now and let Mr. Wayne deal with it later. He's sure the man can for him. And that way Billy doesn't have to worry about getting caught sneaking away and/or using magic. Those are both things he really doesn't want to have to explain.

"Oh, you're awake," Dick says, emerging from the room he was sleeping in (seriously, four bedrooms! In a hotel!). "How did you sleep?"

Billy shrugs. "Okay, I guess. The beds are too soft."

"Yeah, I know, right," Dick agrees. "I hate sleeping in them too."

Billy hums in agreement. He wonders if he could make a run for it. Not that he wants to, of course. And even if he did Mr. Wayne could probably just have Superman come find Billy. He probably has access to him since he funds the League.

If Billy's being honest with himself, having someone alive who cared about him, like a parent, kind of, is going to be nice. It's exciting. Strange, but exciting.

The more he thinks about it, the more Billy realizes he looks like Mr. Wayne too. And not just because of similar hair color and skin tone. Billy really looks like him. He has the same eye shape, same nose, same mouth, same everything, really. Except for the eyes. He has his mom's eye color.

"We're heading back to Gotham City today," Dick says.

"I figured. I don't really want to. I like it here."

Billy really has to figure out how he can keep being Captain Marvel too. He'll just have to sneak away and transform, then fly to Fawcett City. Luckily, he can fly at the speed of sound, so it shouldn't take long. It is inconvenient though. He'll also have to find out some way to keep an eye on the news in case there's anything big that happens in Fawcett so that he can come and help, whenever.

"Fawcett does seem like a cool city," Dick agrees.

"It's just - Gotham is bigger. I won't know anyone. But everyone is going to know me, aren't they?"

"Probably."

"Here I'm a normal kid, but in Gotham, I'm going to be a billionaire's son. Or at least living with a billionaire. It's weird."

"I know exactly what you mean. But it's not as bad as it seems, I promise. You adjust, at least."

"I don't want to adjust. I want to have everything stay the same. And I know that's dumb," Billy says. "But I don't want to be a billionaire's son. I just want - I want…"

"Your parents back," Dick finishes softly. "It's cool, but you'd give everything up for your parents. Even a billion dollars. Or living with someone who has a billion dollars."

"Is that bad?" Billy asks, slightly desperate. "That I'd rather have them back than have Mr. Wayne know about me existing?"

"I think I would give anything to have my parents back," Dick says. "Even my friends. The life I have now. I think I'd probably give it all up in an instant if there was even a chance I could get them back. I miss them."

"Do you think - will I have to call Mr. Wayne _dad_?" Billy asks. He doesn't want to call the man dad. His dad is C.C. Batson and always will be, regardless of the information about having an alive biological father. "I mean, I guess he is, but he didn't raise me. My dad did. I don't want to call anyone else dad."

Dick laughs. It's a little thick like he's holding back heartbreaking tears. He looks at Billy with a grin so wide that Billy's surprised the teenager's face isn't split open in two.

"No, Bruce won't make you do that. I'm pretty sure he understand why you won't. He's pretty awesome like that. He wouldn't say no to being called Bruce though. Between you and me, being called Mr. Wayne makes him feel old."

"Thanks, Dick," Billy says.

"It's no problem at all. I get this is all pretty crazy and definitely not asterous."

Billy bites his tongue to keep from asking about that last word. He doesn't want to be rude. Not when Dick is being so understanding.

"Yeah," Billy finally says. "Not asterous."

* * *

**In character? Hopefully. Hope you liked it. ****Also, I have no idea how DNA tests work. Assume it goes faster because Bruce has tech other's don't that he brought with. :D**


	5. Leaving Home

**So, a little shorter than I usually write, but I didn't want to add more because it kinda ruined the flow. **

**I'm also so sorry for the long break too! I have no excuse. I was going to update last night, but then I needed a new laptop battery, so... anywho, enjoy!**

* * *

** Fawcett City, U.S.A.**

**October 6th, 2010**

"Don't tell Alfred I'm not folding my clothes," Dick says over his shoulder, throwing everything unceremoniously into his suitcase. "He'd throw a fit."

Billy smiles faintly. "I won't."

"Thanks, Billy. I'd really rather live to see tomorrow."

Billy nods even though Dick isn't looking at him. He waits a moment, thinking deeply.

"Do you think Mr. Wayne will let me stop by where I was staying before and grab a few things?"

"Bruce," Dick corrects mildly. "And yeah, he'll let you. As long as it doesn't take too long. We don't want to miss our flight. I mean, he could just reschedule it since he owns the plane, but that's a hassle. Don't even get me started."

Billy feels very, very out of his depth. Here Dick is casually talking about the airplane Mr. Wayne - Bruce (that sounds weird even in Billy's head) owns. He's talking about how simple it is for him and Billy's never seen anything like it.

He likes Dick, but seeing him like that makes it hard to imagine he used to be a normal kid. Billy knows Dick isn't spoiled (or at least not very much), but he sure sounds like it when he talks like that.

"That's good," Billy says. He's not sure what else there is to say.

"Bruce is pretty asterous," Dick says, finally looking at Billy and smiling gently. "It's really not as bad as it seems."

There's that word again. Where the heck has Billy heard it before?

"I made it up," Dick says. "The word. It's the opposite of disaster. Take away the dis and it leaves aster."

And if that logic isn't shockingly familiar. But Billy still can't quite put his finger on where he's heard it before. This is going to bug him, he can tell. But he'll figure it out eventually. He always does.

"It makes sense," Billy admits, shrugging his shoulders.

"I know," Dick agrees brightly. He sits down next to Billy and nudges his shoulder. "I can tell you about the others that I've invented later if you want?"

"I'd like that."

Dick beams.

There's a light knock on the door. Dick jumps off the bed - landing lightly on the floor - and answers the door. Mr. Wayne is standing there in a suit, 100% more expensive than any piece of clothing Billy has ever seen in his life. Heck, even Dick is wearing designer clothes and shoes. He suddenly feels very underdressed in his faded jeans and a threadbare red hoodie.

"You all packed?" Mr. Wayne- Bruce asks.

"Yup," Dick says.

"You folded everything?" he asks, raising an eyebrow dubiously.

"Of course I did," Dick says, tone offended, but not overly so. Mostly it's mild. Dick is a good liar. Billy's not sure what that means for him.

"Just make sure Alfred doesn't find out."

"Duh," Dick returns. "I don't have a _death_ wish, B."

Mr.- Bruce smiles at Dick, then looks at Billy. "Do you need anything? All you had when we picked you up was your backpack."

"Yes," Billy says in what he hopes is a confident tone of voice. "Could we go to where I live? I have some things there I can't lose."

"Of course we can," Bruce says. He looks a little perplexed. "I wouldn't keep you from getting anything you need."

He doesn't say want. It makes sense, because right now more than anything, Billy just wants his parents back. Mr. Wayne can't do that.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," Billy says. He takes a deep breath, already feeling much better about how his day is going so far.

It doesn't take long to check out of the hotel, and by the time they exit the building the car Bruce had driven when he first found Billy is waiting for them. Alfred climbs into the driver's seat and Dr. Thompkins joins him in the passenger seat. Billy, Dick, and Bruce sit in the back.

So far, it's _the_ most awkward car ride Billy has ever experienced in his life.

"Where were you staying, Billy?"

"At the apartment on the corner of Oak Drive and Kensington Street," Billy says almost instantly. For once his encyclopedic knowledge of the city is being put to good use. Not that helping people who are lost isn't good use, of course. "Just get on Broadway, turn right on 10th Ave, left onto Kensington Street and you'll find it."

Alfred puts the directions to use. Bruce and Dick stare at him along with Dr. Thompkins.

"I'm good with directions," Billy says weakly, smiling at them in embarrassment.

In no time at all Alfred pulls the car to a stop right in front of Billy's apartment building. Having them see it, he's almost embarrassed. It does look kind of like a dump, though Billy has never said it. To be fair, his apartment doesn't, but that's magic for you.

"May I go in alone?" Billy asks quietly.

Bruce looks like he's going to say no, but Dick pokes the man and gives him a very pointed look. Dr. Thompkins whispers a sharp: "_Bruce!_"

"Yes," the man finally says, albeit reluctantly. "Just… be careful."

Billy nods seriously and jumps out of the car before disappearing inside. It's strange; he's only been away for one night and already he feels a strange nostalgia build up in him at the sight of the stained hallways and stairs.

He gets to his apartment quickly and whispers the magic word. The door pops open easily. There's key too, but Billy lets Freddy have it. Freddy just thinks that Billy has another key.

He loves this apartment, and he really doesn't want to leave it. Yeah, he's alone and it's sad, but this is his. He fixed it up. He made everything work (okay, magic did that, but it's Billy's magic, not Shazam's borrowed magic that creates Captain Marvel) so he's very proud of it.

He knows that Dick and Bruce will think he's just been sleeping in a cold, junky, moldy building. For a moment - just a moment - Billy wonders if he should tell Bruce and Dick about his magic. Not about being Captain Marvel - not yet. But. About him. His magic… it's a big part of his life. His lifestyle. He loves his magic.

At the same time though, Billy knows it's too soon. He doesn't think Dick and Bruce are bad people. In fact, he thinks quite the opposite. But he also doesn't really know them yet.

All he knows about Dick is that he likes to make up words that Billy knows aren't real but he swears he's heard somewhere before and that he's nice. Funny too.

Bruce is different. He knows even less about the man. Really knows. Because he knows a lot that's public (or less public, but still everyone in the Justice League knows) about the man. What he does know is he seems nice. But plenty of people Billy's met have seemed nice. You don't have to be nice to be a good guy.

Billy shakes his head to force himself back to the present. He needs to focus and hurry. He doesn't want want to have Bruce and Dick come looking for him and seeing his apartment. That would take some explaining.

Everything is just the same as the last time he saw it, yesterday morning. His small pink piggy bank with a few dollars is still in one corner of the room. A stack of books is in another corner. The picture frame showing his parents smiling and hugging a younger him is on the kitchen counter. The shoebox (filled with several questionable magic items) is still in its place on the counter.

Billy quickly stacks his books and tosses them in the big duffle bag that he keeps his clothes in. The throws his piggy bank in, along with the shoebox and picture of his parents. Then he zips the bag closed. It's heavy and very full, but Billy's unwilling to leave anything behind. Even though chances are he'll still come back to this apartment or even use it occasionally.

He hefts the bag over his shoulder. It's heavy, but he doesn't want to use a spell to make it lighter. It would be suspicious for something so full to be easy for him to carry, especially since Billy is pretty short and weak, at least physically in this form.

He stops in the doorway and takes one last look at the place that has been his home for the better part of three years. He's going to miss it. A lot.

"What am I thinking?" Billy asks himself, slapping his forehead. "I need to grab my Justice League communicator. Don't want to forget _that_."

Billy walks back into the tiny kitchen and opens a drawer, pulling it out. He shoves it in his pocket but mutes the ringer. Bruce definitely knows what they are and it wouldn't do for him to find Billy with one.

He stops again in the doorway and smiles sadly at the apartment.

"I guess this is goodbye," he says. "I'll miss you."

No more hanging out with Freddy here - no more hanging out with Freddy much at all. How is Billy even going to tell Freddy what's going on? The older boy is on a camping trip with his grandpa for the next week!

Billy will have to ask Bruce if he can call them once they get back; Freddy's grandpa doesn't own a phone except for a landline. It's outdated, but Billy finds it nice. Even if Freddy disagrees.

Billy wipes a few tears away roughly on his sleeve before closing the door and heading back to the car where everyone is waiting for him.

He pulls open the trunk where the other suitcases are being kept and puts his duffle bag down next to the carefully before getting back into the backseat with Dick and Bruce.

"Get everything you need?" Dick asks.

"Yeah," Billy says quietly, looking out the window at the street as it starts passing by. "I got everything I need." Not everything he wants though. Never everything he wants.

"Good," Bruce says kindly. He doesn't put a hand on Billy's shoulder even though Billy can see he's about to in the reflection of the window. For that, Billy's thankful. He doesn't really want to be touched right now.

"Mr. Wayne?" he asks without turning around. "Do you think, I have a friend and I don't want him to worry about me. Could I call him at some point?"

"Of course. Do you want to call him now?"

Billy shakes his head. They're getting farther out of the city now, closer to the airport.

"He doesn't have a phone. His grandpa doesn't either. They only have a landline and they're camping this week. I'll do it later."

"Okay," Bruce says.

No one else talks. Billy's thankful for that. He's still processing… well, everything. He just needs some time.

They pull up shortly, directly onto the airfield and in front of a rather large plane.

Dick unbuckles and jumps out his door as soon as the car is pulled to a complete stop. Billy gets out of his door slower. He also slams his door shut a little harder than necessary, but no one needs to know that.

"Wanna race to the plane?" Dick asks, popping up next to Billy.

Billy shakes his head. "Not really, Dick."

"It'll be fun, I promise. You just need to relax for a bit. Take your mind off things. It does help," Dick tells him earnestly.

"I have to carry my stuff," Billy says. He does need to, even though relaxing and not caring for just a few moments sounds amazing.

"Bruce will get it," Dick says. "The manual labor will do him good. He hardly exercises."

Something about the way Dick says that and the way his eyes gleam, it strikes Billy as strange. Familiar. And really, Billy doesn't believe it at all. Bruce Wayne is a giant.

Still.

"Okay," Billy sighs, putting on a show. "Three two one go!"

He takes off before Dick has a chance to say anything else.

"Cheater," Dick says, racing past Billy. Man, he's _fast_. Billy puts on another burst of speed determined, if not to catch up, at least to not lose so miserably.

* * *

**Everything still sounding good?**


	6. New Rooms

**I am so, so sorry for how long this took! I don't even have much work to get this ready for publishing, so I have no excuse. It's just been a rough few months, you know? It shouldn't ever be thing long to post again, so to all those who are sticking around to read this new chapter, thank you from the bottom of my heart. It's not as long as normal, so I'm also sorry about that. That said, enjoy this please!**

* * *

**Wayne Private Jet, Somewhere Above the U.S.A.**

**October 6th, 2010**

Billy presses his forehead against the window and closes his eyes. He loves flying. He really does. But… he wishes that he wasn't up in the air because he has to go live in Gotham City. Fawcett is his _home_. It always will be. Nothing can ever change that for him. It's beginning to feel more and more like this isn't his choice though. Because it isn't.

He's warming up to the whole idea, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy or like it. It just means he's going to be mature about the whole thing and not freak out or run away.

Billy wants his dad.

Not Bruce Wayne, his real dad. The man who'd raised him and played games with him and always, _always_ told him stories about all sorts of places he visited. He misses his dad so bad it hurts.

He can deal with Bruce Wayne being his biological father. He _will_ deal with it. But that doesn't mean he liked it, because he doesn't. Not at all. He doesn't think he'll ever truly be happy with it. He knows he'll never call Mr. Wayne dad or father. Never ever.

Billy turns away from the window and looks around the plane. Mr. Wayne is reading a newspaper with his brow furrowed. Dick is playing some sort of game on his phone. Alfred is apparently their pilot (and how cool is it their butler can fly an airplane). Dr. Thompkins has headphones in and is reading a book about something or other, Billy isn't quite sure what.

Billy reaches under his seat and pulls out his backpack, carefully tugging it open and yanking out an old, worn book. A gift from the wizard. It has spells for pretty much every situation Billy will ever find himself in and a few he probably won't.

"What are you reading?" Dick asks suddenly.

"Oh, just an old book my parents gave me," Billy lies. "Before, well, before. It's one of the last things they ever gave me."

Dick's face softens at the lie, and Billy almost finds himself feeling guilty about it. But he can't, because no one is supposed to know his secret. He needs to keep them safe. And the lie will keep Dick from asking too much more, hopefully.

"Ah," Dick says. "It must be important to you."

"It is."

Dick nods and that's that, situation solved.

"Do you like school?"

Billy looks up again, startled.

"Um, yeah, I really do. Why?"

"Just curious. I don't really know much about you," Dick admits sheepishly. "And I'd like to know more."

"Oh," Billy says. He's surprised. It isn't like he expects Mr. Wayne and Dick to be cruel or anything, or even indifferent. He's pretty sure they're good people. He just doesn't expect them to care about the little things so much. "I really like history."

"Why?" Dick asks.

"My parents went on archeological digs, you know? And they brought me with most of the time, so I guess I just couldn't really stay away from it. It's all just so _interesting_. Like, did you know mummies had their brains pulled out through their nose with a hook?" Billy asks. "It's cool."

"That's gross," Dick says.

"Yeah, it kind of is," Billy agrees. "But it's still pretty cool."

"Can you imagine if people still did that today?" Dick wonders. "Where would all the brains go?"

"Probably to zombies," Billy replies. "If they were real."

"Probably. It shouldn't be more than an hour until we're landing in Gotham."

"Really? That was fast."

Dick smiles. "Alfred is pretty much the best pilot ever. Once we land it'll be back to the Manor and Dr. Thompkins will probably do a quick check-up on you or at least schedule one."

"I don't need a check-up," Billy says hurriedly. "I'm fine."

"You were living in an abandoned apartment building. I'm fairly sure that's not the definition of 'fine'."

"I am."

"Listen, Bruce just wants to make sure you're okay," Dick sighs. "And come on, check-ups are important."

Billy nods his head, albeit a tad sullenly. Dick is right. That doesn't mean Billy has to like it, but he's right.

"Anyway, I'll let you get back to your book."

The rest of the flight Billy tries and eventually just pretends to read, like knowing how much they actually care hasn't completely shaken his world.

* * *

**Wayne Manor, Gotham City, U.S.A.**

**October 6th, 2010**

Billy isn't quite sure what he's expecting when they pull up, but it isn't _this_. This massive, huge, giant, house. Mansion. Billy finds himself wondering just how many people could actually live here. Probably almost a whole small town.

He feels his jaw drop, and ties to snap it shut, but his jaw doesn't seem to be listening to his brain anymore. Or maybe it is because his brain is still telling him he's in shock.

He hears a sharp laugh to his side and glances back to see Dick, smiling slightly.

"Sorry, it's just I had the same reaction when I came here for the first time."

Billy looks back at the Manor. This is where he's going to live. A myriad of worries fills his head. Like how is he going to not get lost? How will he even find the front door? The place is huge. It almost looks bigger than the apartment building he was living in before.

Billy hops out of the car once he sees Mr. Wayne get out. Dick follows him. Alfred stays in the car.

"I'm going to grab your luggage, Billy," Mr. Wayne says. "Alfred is taking Dr. Thompkins home. We'll help get you settled."

"I can get it," Billy offers, already making his way towards the back.

"No, you go inside with Dick. I'll join you in a moment."

Dick gestures for Billy to follow him. Billy does so slowly. Even the doors are massive. It's intimidating, to say the least. Billy isn't really sure he likes it very much. There's nothing homey about it at all. It just looks big.

Still, Dick seems excited to show Billy around. He opens the doors with glee (were they even locked?) and skips into the house. Billy follows at a much slower pace.

"This is the main entryway. It's pretty big. I won't show you too much, just because it's pretty confusing. I figure I'll give you a better tour in the morning. For now, I'll just show you the kitchen, living room, my room, Bruce's room, and your room. Those last three are all fairly close together."

Billy nods absently.

"So, the living room is to your left, the kitchen is through the living room, so is the dining room," he begins quickly, mostly gesturing before dragging Billy by the wrist up the huge staircase. "I think Bruce went back out to say goodbye to Leslie and schedule you an appointment for tomorrow. I'll show you the rooms now, let you get settled."

Before Billy can get a word in edgewise, they're upstairs.

"This room is mine," Dick says, pointing to a door with a few band and video game posters. Bruce's room is on my left. Your room is on my right, or it will be. Right now it's still just a guest room, you know?"

Billy opens the door Dick gestures to and tries, again, to contain his gasp. He doesn't quite manage it. The room is almost as big as the apartment he was living in, the bed alone is large enough to be a room, or that's what it feels like. Granted, the decor is grand, a little bit intimidating. He's kind of scared to enter for fear of ruining something.

"I know it's a little bit… impressive. Bruce will let you redecorate however you want."

"Okay," Billy manages. He almost wants to say no. This is all too much. It feels like too much, especially this room. It's the last straw. "Do you, do you mind if I can just be alone for the rest of the night? I'm a little tired."

Dick nods, patting Billy's shoulder lightly.

"If you need us, you know where to find us, okay?"

Billy nods and watches as Dick closes the door. As soon as he hears the latch click, tears start to stream down his face. Luckily, he's mastered the art of crying silently.

* * *

**Wayne Manor, Gotham City, U.S.A.**

**October 6th, 2010**

"You can go ahead and sit down. I thought before anything serious, I could just ask you about yourself," Dr. Thompkin's says.

"Okay," he says, dropping onto a chair, avoiding the bed in the corner meant for check-ups.

"Now, let's start with some basics, how often did you eat full meals?"

Billy shifts.

"I always had lunch on school days and I had breakfast every day. I had dinner like half the time," he finishes slowly. He can't tell if she's impressed or upset. On the one hand, being able to eat as much as he did is impressive for someone who's homeless for lack of a better word.

"Okay," she sighs, rubbing her forehead. "That's better than I expected. How often were you sick?"

"I don't know." He scrunches his face up, thinking. "Not often. Once or twice a year, maybe?"

"Okay. Okay. I'm going to weight you now, okay?" she asks.

Billy stands up and goes to the scale in the corner of the room.

"Do I just stand on it?"

"That works just fine," she says.

Billy steps onto it carefully.

"You can hop off," Dr. Thompkins says after a few more moments. "Do you mind taking that big sweater off and doing it again just so I can get a more accurate measurement?"

Billy shakes his head and tugs it off, leaving him in a red t-shirt.

"What is that?" she asks suddenly, rushing towards him and tugging one of his sleeves up closer to his shoulder.

"It's, well…"

"It looks like Lichtenberg Figures," she whispers, almost to herself.

"What?" Billy asks. He's never heard anyone call those scars that. Then again, he can count on one hand the people who know about the scars.

"Electrocution scars," she says, clearing her throat.

"Like lightning?"

"Billy, were you hit by lightning?"

"It was a long time ago," he says quickly, defensively. "I felt fine afterward." Because he was Captain Marvel after, probably.

"Did you ever go to a hospital? That was serious. It still is. You could have nerve damage. Do you understand that? I hope you realize how lucky you are to be alive, Billy Batson."

"Yes, ma'am," he manages, trying to keep from choking. He just wants this to be over. He likes her well enough, but he doesn't want to be Bruce Wayne's son. He was happy back home, being plain old Billy Batson. He doesn't think he'll ever be happy here.

"Like father like son," he hears her mutter as she moves away. That probably hurts the most. She's not talking about C.C. Batson.


	7. An English Breakfast

**Hey all! I kinda disappeared there, but! I have a new chapter out in less than 7 months! Progress! It's also kinda short, but it worked out better that way for pacing. The next chapter should be longer. Can't promise when it'll be up lol, but hopefully in a month or less? We'll see. I'm trying to get more done for all my in-progress stuff, but I'm also taking an insane amount of credits this semester and working, so we'll see how that goes. If any of y'all follow my Harry Potter/Young Justice crossover, that should be the next one getting an update, but I'm still not sure when. Also for people who follow this on only, I mostly use ao3 now, so I'm not posting as much to. If you do wanna see my newer stories, you'll probably wanna look at ao3 more than. Thanks for holding out!**

**LMK what you guys think. I thrive off of praise lol. But seriously, you don't have to comment. I just hope you like it! Again, hopefully breaks will start getting shorter, but I'm not sure yet.**

* * *

**Wayne Manor, Gotham City, U.S.A.**

**October 6th, 2010**

By the time Billy leaves the room, it's been at least an hour and a half of questioning. To be fair to Dr. Thompkins, it does seem like she's trying to hurry it along, but he's been living alone for three years without any doctors visits. She has to be thorough.

She follows him out to where Bruce and Dick are waiting. Dick is on his cell phone, probably playing video games. Bruce is staring at the wall stoically.

"Well Bruce, I can understand how he's related to you," Dr. Thompkins says almost right away. Her lips are pressed together tightly. Billy still can't tell if she's upset. "Overall he's in really good shape."

By now, Dick has turned his phone off and is listening intently to Dr. Thompkins, occasionally glancing at Billy.

"He's not malnourished or that small for his age. By all accounts, he's a completely healthy ten-year-old boy." Her lips pinch together even tighter.

"But…" Bruce prompts, looking at Billy quickly. Billy blushes and looks at his feet. This is _embarrassing_. He's not a baby. The lighting was magic. It's not like it could hurt him.

Granted, they don't know that.

"He had significant electrical trauma about three years ago. Now, this caused some scarring, but - surprisingly - there's no lasting damage other than Lichtenberg Figures." She pauses. Looks at Billy as if she's scared he'll be traumatized. "Judging by the size, he should have died."

Now everyone is looking at him, like they're expecting him to be horrified. And he's just not. It wouldn't have hurt him. The magic, his magic, isn't like that.

He hates that they're all looking at him like he's fragile, like he's about to break down and start crying. He's not and at this point, he hates it. He never wanted to be here in the first place. His life was _good_. Sure, he didn't have parents, but he had a house and friends and he did well in school. He doesn't hate Bruce, but he doesn't really know him well enough to like him.

Dick grabs Billy's wrist at this point (maybe he can sense how close to bursting Billy's temper is?) and drags him off towards the hallway.

"I'll show you my room," Dick says. "I think you'll probably get the guest room next to mine. If you want to, Bruce will probably let you paint it."

Billy manages a weak smile. Now that he's not near Bruce or Dr. Thompkins (no doubt both are still talking about him) he's not as angry. He's just… numb. This kind of sucks and it's not ideal. How is Billy even going to work as Captain Marvel in _Fawcett City_ when he's in Gotham?

"You'll probably have to borrow a pair of my pajamas. Unless you brought any with?"

Billy shakes his head mutely.

"Okay then. They might be a little big on you. I hope that's okay? I'm sure we can get you some more clothes tomorrow or something."

"That's fine," Billy agrees.

"I guess you're tired, huh? I was that way when I first came here too."

There's something behind that. Vaguely Billy knows the story behind Dick Grayson living with Bruce Wayne, probably much better than most other children his age who don't live in Gotham City. But he definitely doesn't know enough to make a complete conclusion. Still, he can guess.

"Here's my room," Dick says, pushing open a door to the most chaotic room Billy's ever seen.

The thing is, it's not really messy, per say, but there's just so much stuff, and it would definitely look less cluttered if it were organized better. There's no doubt about it, however, that he knows exactly where everything is, because as soon as they're inside Dick goes towards a corner of the room, opens one of two dressers, and pulls out a smallish pair of sweatpants and a large white t-shirt.

"Thanks," Billy says.

Dick smiles at him.

"No problem. Here, your room is next to mine. You can change there. If you want to hang out with me for a bit after you change, just come back here. If not go ahead and sleep."

"I'm pretty tired, actually," Billy says. Not a lie, but not the full truth. He needs more time to process. "I think I'll just lay down."

The smile Dick gives him now is sad.

"Make sure you sleep at least a few hours," he says, so much understanding that it physically hurts Billy to hear.

At least he knows Dick understands. One less worry.

* * *

**Wayne Manor, Gotham City, U.S.A.**

**October 6th, 2010**

When Billy wakes up he panics. Only for a moment, but still. He's not in his room. Instead he's in a fairly plain room that nevertheless looks like it belongs in a palace. He shoots out of bed right away, but before he gets much further than standing, he remembers the last few days. Which honestly explains the unfamiliar room, smells, and pajamas.

It's a good thing he didn't decide to turn into Captain Marvel right away. Okay, Billy likes to think he has more sense than that, but who knows? Maybe not always. Definitely not during a kidnapping. Which this isn't, so that's one less in a long list of problems he needs to work on.

As soon as the adrenaline drains, he's left feeling very sluggish. And hungry. Honestly though, Billy's pretty sure he won't be able to find the kitchen or dining room or wherever it is rich people eat.

He walks towards the door and opens it. He does remember where Dick's room is at least (not hard to forget since it's right next to the guest room he slept in). Hopefully Dick is still there and can guide him to food. Billy is hungry, starving, really.

He pauses for a moment before knocking on Dick's door, and almost changes his mind, because if Dick is sleeping he doesn't want to wake him up. They all had long days yesterday.

That decision is made for him, however, when Dick opens his door wide and jumps slightly at the sight of Billy, who stares back at him with wide eyes.

"Well, this is perfect," Dick says after recovering. "I was just about to check if you were awake."

"Oh," Billy responds intelligently.

"So, breakfast?" Dick raises his eyebrows a few times.

Absently, Billy realizes that Dick is just wearing dark sweatpants and a hoodie. His hair is extremely messy, definitely bedhead. Probably similar to Billy's own. But something about Dick strikes him as familiar. Extremely familiar. But for some reason, he can't quite put his finger on why.

"Sure," Billy agrees. "I'm pretty hungry."

"Perfect. You'll fit right in; I'm always hungry," Dick chirps. Dick seems to very suddenly be trying very hard to avoid looking at Billy's exposed arms. The t-shirt he's wearing is big, but the lightning scars are still visible snaking down his arm. Dick had heard about them, but hadn't seen them last night. After all, Billy nearly always wears a sweater or hoodie.

"By the way, do you know where my hoodie is? I couldn't find it this morning."

"Alfred probably took it so he could wash it," Dick replies, leading Billy towards the stairs. "It should be done later today, but I have some you could borrow if you want."

"That's okay," Billy replies. "I just wanted to check."

After a few more minutes spent in silence (it's not awkward, but it's not exactly comfortable either. It's just kind of there) they arrive in the kitchen, where Alfred is frying something that smells good.

The way here was confusing, and try as Billy might, he definitely won't be able to find the way back to the room he's staying in. This place is pretty much a maze disguised as a mansion. For all he knows, the Minotaur is in here somewhere. Fitting, since his thing is magic, most of it Greek.

"What's for breakfast?" Dick asks cheerily.

"Omelets, Mast Dick," Alfred replies. "I hope you're okay with that, Master Billy. If not, let me know and I'll whip something else together quickly for you."

"Omelets are fine," Billy says. "Thank you very much."

"Of course, Master Billy."

And wow, that's still really weird. Billy will never get used to that, if only because he doesn't really feel grown-up enough to have a title like that. Maybe no one ever does.

When he's given his omelet, piping hot and cheesy covered in peppers and spinach and green stuff, his mouth starts watering. Dick has already begun to dig in and Alfred starts to wash the pan. Bruce is absent.

"He had a meeting," Dick says, almost like he read Billy's mind. "He's trying to take a week or so off, but he needs to let Lucius know so that it can be planned around. He should be back around lunch."

How does that make Billy feel better? Why should he care if Bruce is taking care of him as an obligation or because he genuinely wants to know him? He shouldn't. But he does.

Billy missed having someone alive who cared about _him_.

It's different when they care about Captain Marvel. It's different from Freddy. This feels less… different. More welcoming. More like home used to.


End file.
